


We fly away from ourselves

by AdamantiumDragonfly



Series: Lady Blood [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Agent Enyo, Ambition? Must be a Slytherin, Could be angsty, Female Protagonist, Historical Accuracy, Historical Figures, Jewish Character, London 1914, Mutli Generational Story, Period Typical Attitudes, Story of Miriam Carroll, We got issues here, World War I, World War One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantiumDragonfly/pseuds/AdamantiumDragonfly
Summary: “We are not youth any longer. We don’t want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces.”|| ― Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front ||
Series: Lady Blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932427
Kudos: 2





	We fly away from ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> || Belgium, 1917 ||

He didn't look at her. He couldn't look at her.

"You were supposed to protect her."

The weight of it all was like a bag of stones, crushing her chest. Her ribs were cracking and lungs gasping for respite.

"You were supposed to train her. Keep her safe."

She hadn't done enough. She never did enough. She hadn't trained her well enough. So an innocent life was in her hands, blood staining her brow as a mark of her failure.

She had failed them.

He left her. They were supposed to be partners in this war together. He wanted to be anywhere but where Miriam was. Her bloody hands staining every mission that followed.

She had to keep working, keep pushing. So she pushed. Those memories of laughter pushed to the corner of her mind and struck with a match. The hurt at rejection of a lifelong friend, a partner, a brother, caught fire like pitch. She didn't feel the flames or the memories slowly crumbling to ash.

She felt nothing. None of it mattered anyway.

Miriam left Belgium for other things. Things that didn't have to do with failure. Things that weren't reminders of her mistakes. More blood needed to be shed.

She had orders to follow. A German general was dead because of her. Five hundred soldiers slaine and tortured, spilling their truth, secrets, and blood across the fine leather of her shoes.

Miriam's world wasn't protection and peacekeeping as it had been. They knew of her ability. Of her strengths. Of her power. Miriam had a lust for power and power she got.

Red stained her skirt and her hands, a constant reminder of the men she had killed. The information she had passed and the lives she had lost. Miriam wasn't who she was at the start of the war, a little girl who had expected one thing and been handed a loaded gun and told to shoot.

Miriam wasn't that girl. Miriam was more than that, risen to a greater calling. One that coursed through her veins with a burning fury that could not be denied.

But the price that had been paid for this power, this name, was too high.


End file.
